It's Ill-Advised to be Both a Thief and a Hero
by silvergryphon06
Summary: A collection of short drabbles and one-shots centering on the misadventures of my human thief character. Quite a bit of humor, a dash of romance, and nothing but adventure.


_**A/N: **_**I've been playing a lot of GW2 lately, and this sort of popped into my head as I was piddling around on my human thief. These'll mostly by a collection of drabbles and one-shots that chronicles her rather unconventional journey through the storyline, hilarity and romance always right at her heels. This is almost all pure crack and some (if not most) characters from the game will likely be very out of character, but this is mostly just an exercise to keep honing my writing and purely for entertainment purposes (what-ifs, if you like). Still, any and all support/reviews/favs/follows will certainly be appreciated. These will be written in a variety of ratings (K+ through M), but I'm rating the piece M as a whole to be on the safe side. I hope you all enjoy!**

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**An Unconventional Defense: In which there is bravery, and stupidity, and an incredible amount of awkwardness.**

**Rating: T**

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The vast majority of the battle for Shaemoor was a blur in Logan's memory; endless hacking and weaving that made every muscle in his body burn.

But he could vividly recall _that _woman.

Everyone probably did. She'd been named the Hero of Shaemoor, after all, but he considered it an unforseen surprise. Well, more like some sort of miscalculated miracle on the part of the Six.

Without even bothering to snatch up a shield, or a blade a bigger than the fishing knife he'd glimpsed clenched in her fist, she'd darted past his company of Seraph and right in front of a charging Tamini warrior. And his first thought about her was that she was likely the most exemplary mixture of courage and stupidity that the gods had ever given life to.

What happened next did nothing to change that opinion (although he would admit that it did impress him somewhat).

One minute she was there and the next she…wasn't?

It was only the vibrant orange hue of her hair (he was certain that even the enemy had winced at just how garishly loud that color looked, like an overripe carrot) flashing in the sudden blaze of rifle fire from the infantry that had alerted him to where she'd gone. In the space it had taken him to blink, she'd sprung upwards and twisted, slicing the little knife she wielded across the massive centaur's heaving throat. With a wet gurgle, it'd fallen over, dead where it had only just stood. You'd have thought, with that kind of speed and maneuverability, she'd have easily, perhaps even gracefully, landed back on solid ground.

It seemed as though the redhead had no such luck.

Logan could have sworn that he'd heard her squeak in surprise as another centaur immediately charged through the gate, _right under her_. He definitely heard a pained 'oof' when she fell belly first across it's broad back. At that point, it wouldn't have phased him in the slightest if that Tamini had squeaked too.

As it was, both woman and centaur were well distracted with the mutual goal of dislodging a most unwelcome occupation. A cursory glance informed him that pretty much the entire garrison, both defenders and invaders, were equally discombobulated as reluctant mount and rider bucked and writhed along the walls of the fort. Balthazar's balls, he'd spent too much time around Zojja if he was talking like an asura in his own head.

The fact that he was even doing that was a testament to just how gobsmacked the entire situation had left him. He felt completely off-kelter. It was at that moment that he realized that he'd been staring just as hard as his men, mouth gaping like a dazed frog. Roughly shaking his head, he'd given out a rallying cry, leaving the woman to her own clumsily devised fate as he tried to refocus the Seraph's attention on the crucial task of defending the bridge leading out of the fort into Queensdale.

That had been his intention, anyway. The troops had reformed, ready to drive the smattering of centaurs at the portcullis back, naked swords gleaming threateningly in the roaring torchlight. As one, they began to push forward as he gave the order to assemble a shield wall. Logan spearheaded the charge, his weight balanced forward as he and the Seraph hurtled towards the line of horsemen just within the gate.

And then that orange blur was flying past him again, only this time at a greater height, and apparently having found a way to right herself. He barely avoided getting trampled as his steps faltered when a Tamini bolted from the rear of his company, straight into his tribe's defensive formation, with a petite, shrieking redhead astride his back, small hands clenched tightly in the thick hair that flowed down his back. The centaurs, unwilling to cut down one of their kinsmen, scattered, one unfortunate archer falling as a knife was stabbed into its eye in passing. The thought dimly crossed his mind that he should probably order her to fall back, or fall off, whichever would result in fewer casualties as his men broke ranks to swiftly dispatch the panicked centaur. In fact, he'd opened his mouth again to shout that very thing, hoping she would still be in earshot, and seriously doubting it at the rate that centaur was galloping.

The appearance of one of the Modniir's sages, one of that tribe's powerful elementalists that had clearly taken control over the local Tamini tribe, made the need for that order unnecessary. Or so he thought, right up until that barmy woman leaned slightly to the side and snatched the ungainly swords out of her impromptu mount's hand.

Brandishing the weapon (which he believed was much too big for her to actually wield with any effectiveness), she shouted something intelligible. His Seraph guards either heard something he didn't or chose to interpret it as meaningful, rallying once more and taking off after her to meet the sage as it thundered down the bridge. His feet started moving again out of instinct as she aimed the horseman straight at the other, as if daring either of them to divert from her chosen course. Whether due to a sense of pride, or simply an inability to do otherwise, they met with a resounding crash at the center of the bridge.

Staff met sheild as the two centaurs collided and, not surprisingly, the impact was finally enough to send the slight rider flying back. He realized too late where she was going to land. Logan tried to backpedal, but he had too much momentum, and the men behind him were right on his heels, those at either side of him too tightly packed together for him to dodge. Unavoidable. Inevitable. These were the words that flashed through his mind as time appeared to suddenly slow, her body seeming to lethargically twist mid-air and he imagined that their eyes briefly met. As if they were acknowledging to each other that this was about as ridiculous a situation as they could find themselves in. As if they both knew there was no way around what was about to happen. He fancied that she felt as trapped in that moment as he did, as utterly helpless to avert this common destiny.

He'd never realized that he could be so philosophical in the face of catastrophe. He also didn't think he'd ever seen eyes that particular color of blue before, like-

The comparison was cut short when his back slammed into the unforgiving plate of the man behind him with a harsh grunt, the air forcefully expelled from his lungs. In a precarious tangle of weapons, armor, leather, and limbs, the entire front line of the Seraph were taken down, wheat beneath the scythe; a tiny, orange-haired, disastrous scythe.

If he'd could, he'd have instantly pushed her off and rolled to his feet. But there was a wriggling weight across his legs and another, more stationary one pinning his sword arm. He craned his neck to look down, perhaps even intending to snap an order, but three simultaneous things happened to still his tongue. First, he heard the Modniir sage cry out as it turned about and fled back across the bridge, the corpse of the unfortunate Tamini warrior falling off the edge into the moat. Second, he understood what it'd said, and could already feel the rumbling as an earth elemental began to form as commanded. And thirdly, his eyes fell on the woman who'd single-handedly turned every tactic he'd ever learned on its head. She was bracing most of her weight on her hands on one side of his greaves, struggling to both worm her legs out from under the man at his right and to push up from where she was draped over…

Oh.

She was right in his lap.

The realization must have hit her at the same time, because her wide eyes suddenly snapped up to his, her already rosy cheeks flushing such a deeper pink, bringing out the coppery freckles that were sprinkled across her nose. It provided quite the contrast to her outrageous hair, sharp shorn locks waving and curling around her heart-shaped face. He also noticed then that her armor was shoddily made, bits of leather and hide cobbled together to provide what coverage they could. Thin strips had been threaded in a series of cross stitches, leaving a patterned gap along the sides of her chestpiece and leggings, all the way down the curve of her hip to her calf, where the tops of her boots reached. The skin that peeked through was quite pale, and the leather actually seemed to mold to her body. Idly, he concluded that, while it was perhaps the most ineffective set of equipment he'd laid eyes on, it was also likely one of the most visually appealing. _Enough_. _Jennah,_ He sternly reminded himself. She'd stopped her wriggling, freezing in an instant as her mouth fell open, presumably to apologize, or explain. Logan couldn't say he would have been receptive to either right then. His own mouth tightened, then parted to tell her just that, but then her head whipped in the opposite direction. He followed her gaze and promptly cursed.

"By the Gods! What is that thing? It's huge!" he heard someone call out.

"_That_, soldier, is a threat," he barked.

Enormous, skeletal-looking hands made of stone and dirt were rising out of the earth. Debris was being pulled into an invisible vortex around fingers as thick as two men standing abreast. He barely noticed as the weight on his legs vanished, blindly taking the gauntleted hand that was offered to him to help him back to his feet.

"Captain?"

Soldiers were already attempting to take the brute down before it pulled more of itself together out of the ground, swords ringing against the hard packed earth that made up the wrists and forearms. He tore his eyes away to give his orders, already moving to set up a protective barrier for those the wounded that were already limping back from the rupture in the earth.

"Take out those giant hands, and the whole thing will come crashing down!"

He could already see cracks appearing in the elemental's structure as his troops hacked away. It'd take time, maybe more time than they had, but they'd wear it down. He found himself scanning the area for another flash of orange, frowning when he saw nothing in the first sweep.

Where was that walking, unmitigated disaster?

When he glanced back at the elemental, he spotted her, and just sighed. Far more nimbly than he would have initially believed, given the past twenty minutes, she was scaling one of the arms, a scavenged dagger clenched between her teeth as she scrambled upwards. Every couple of feet, she paused, extracted the knife and slashed, then continued moving.

"She's taking out the joints," he muttered, reluctantly approving.

He watched her reach the palm of the right arm and hook her legs around a vine that snaked along the wrist. Quickly, she worked her knife between the dirt plates and started to saw at the magically summoned tendon that he could see trace down the length of the arm. Logan looked over to the left arm just as his Seraph's combined efforts sent it crumbling. They were backing away as their comrades at the base of the first one continued to cut into the earthen flesh. All at once there was a triumphant shout from above and Logan's gaze flickered upwards to see the redhead swing herself upright as the hand began to disintegrate. Just behind her, the yellow light that had erupted from the ground changed to an ugly crimson.

Swearing again, Logan dropped the barrier he'd formed and started to sprint forward.

"Jump, you daft fool! It's going to explode!" he shouted, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to hear him.

He saw her half-turn, startled, the color draining from her face before she scurried to get her legs free of the vine. Bits of rock and tree were spinning faster as the air quite literally pulsed and swelled with the tingling sensation of building magic. He felt his stomach lurch as a root smacked into the woman's temple and her eyes roll up into her head. Miraculously, as she slumped forward, her foot slipped free, and she tumbled. Pushing himself faster, he leaped over a fissure, his arms outstretched. He wasn't fast enough, and she hit the ground with a thud. The magic grew, and the ground groaned. He couldn't turn around and he couldn't slow down. So he bent at the waist as he hurtled past her, grabbing her limp arm and, with a burst of adrenaline, slinging her unconscious form across his shoulders.

And he kept going, clamping his arms up over the backs of her knees and her shoulderblades to keep her in place as he dashed behind the last standing wall of a ruined farmhouse. They just made it.

He felt more than heard the shattering boom as the magic burst, knocking him off his feet and forwards to smash, and then slump, against the rough stone wall. There was a wetness trickling down his cheek and he dimly knew on some level that he was going to have a hell of a knot. He'd be lucky if that and some bruises were all he walked away with. With a terse shake, he put a hand to his head and slowly pulled himself up, the other hand using the wall for leverage.

His eyes fell on the woman who'd slid off to land in a heap at his side, a gash to match his own slightly above her brow. Letting out a pained breath, he winced as he leaned down and gingerly picked the unconscious redhead up a second time. He settled her in his arms, a little taken aback at how little she weighed. She was small, but - his eyes drifted down, taking note of the ample curve of her chest. Dwayna's Grace, shouldn't a blessing like that add something to the overall...heft?

_Jennah! _His mind thundered, and he promptly shut the train of thought down, his face heating.

Wonderful. Captain of the Seraph, the Queen's Champion, flushing like a boy caught peeking in the girl's bathhouse.

_Wasn't that what you were basically doing?_

Through sheer willpower alone, he forced the blood from his cheeks and kept walking, automatically giving out orders as his troops began gathering themselves and the wounded. He looked down at the woman he carried again and he felt his irritation wane.

Brave and stupid.

The two traits needed to make a hero.


End file.
